Please
by thatgirl15
Summary: Based on episode 6, series 3-The Hospital. This is the episode where Karen is knocked down, only this time she IS hurt. Pete's POV. AU,of course.
1. Chapter 1

This is set when Karen was knocked down in series 3, episode 6, only in this version, she isn't ok.

...

He hurried back into the house, keen to escape to cold breeze. The car alarm's insistent wailing had proved irksome enough for his frustration to build until; finally, he kicked it, purely to vent his feelings. Surprisingly enough, it had shut the car up, but it had also succeeded in causing his foot to throb and ache, which only added to the bloody-minded state he had been in since his dispute with Sue. He fiercely regretted the kiss. He had done as soon as he realised what had happened. It was beyond his comprehension how he could throw away a relationship like his and Sue's and he was desperate to put it right, but the discovery of her husband's latest exploit continued to smart and she was having none of his efforts to atone for his misdeed.

He had a lot on his mind and was surprised to be jolted back to reality by a mildly frantic looking Jake, appearing, as if from nowhere, onto Pete's horizon.

'There you are-look, Dad, that was Mum on the phone and she says you've got to keep calm'

'Keep calm?' His son's words had left him confused and a little bewildered.

'She said "Tell Dad to keep calm and not to panic 'cause everything's going to be ok"'

'If everything's going to be ok, why do I need to keep calm?' he demanded, trying a logical approach now, in an attempt to decipher his son's garbled instructions from his mother.

Jake played with his jaw for a moment, before confessing to his father, 'Karen's been knocked down'.

Pete's eyes widened, as an overwhelming panic began to wash over him, mixed with a tinge of hopeful, yet hopeless disbelief. His brow furrowed and suddenly, the world seemed a crueller place. How could his only, precious daughter have been knocked down? He heard about these things all the time in the news, and had given his children the appropriate the advice, or so he thought, to avoid this fate for themselves. He had been so wrapped up in his own affairs this evening, he had paid little attention to his young daughter, so nervous about her role in a school concert that she could easily have failed to remember road safety. HIS daughter-HIS Karen! He imagined her tiny body crushed by the weight of a speeding car-no, a truck. He berated himself over and over for not paying her more attention, forgetting how much he cared for her, forgetting to appreciate her existence and for not spending enough time with her. He had no rational answers, his mind was still coming to terms with the information and could only force out,

'Oh my God! Wha-', before Jake cut him off.

'No, Dad, it's ok, Dad-Karen will be ok, seriously. Mum's at the hosp-'

'Karen 'will be ok'? Jake, what's happened to Karen? What did Mum say?' he asked urgently.

Jake was silent for a long moment, apprehensive about admitting Karen's injuries to his already agitated father. He tried his best to make them sound as trivial as possible.

'Well…she'll be ok, remember' he reminded his father before rushing on, conscious he was about to be interrupted once more, 'because broken legs heal in, like, two months, don't they?...and they gave her transfusions to replace the blood she lost, so that's okay now…but', he was scared to carry on, too aware of his father's bone white face and mask of silent horror. He rushed the last part, 'the only thing is, they won't know about head or back injuries properly until she's awake', he was seriously worried about his father now, who looked to be on the verge of breakdown. He finished with a murmured, '…which might not be for a few days.' He gave his father some moments to digest the news, before pointing out, 'Mum's at the hospital with her now-and, you can't ring her, because she's not allowed to use her phone in the hospital-but she says "everything's ok, don't worry, stay calm" and she'll give us a ring in a bit'. He was beginning to wonder whether he should help his father sit down, his face still dumbfounded and having not said anything for several minutes, when Pete managed a stammering,

'yeah, but she-but she's been…'


	2. Chapter 2

He had been forced to sit down, forced to drink the scalding tea placed in his hands by his eldest son and forced to reassure the younger boy of things he couldn't convince himself were true. The endowment of youth, coupled with an unerring ability to entertain himself with whatever materials presented themselves, however, meant that Ben was happy enough to be swept aside with a few generalised comments about his sister's condition, used as he was to the family's frequent visits to the A&E at the local hospital. It was more difficult for Pete, however.

'She's had a bit of an accident, but Mum says she'll be ok'

'She'll be on her feet in no time'

Each time he murmured these things, at first to his sons, but later repeating them to himself over and over, he felt another piercing sensation in his chest. He didn't know these things were true. Sue could have downplayed his tiny, fragile daughter's condition, to calm Jake-hell, to calm HIM. He couldn't believe anything until he saw the doctors, quizzed them at length and acquisitioned a full report on his daughter. His daughter. He had to see her-see her little chest moving steadily up and down, watch her extraordinary face, make sure that she was still there, and still his daughter.

He left his perch on the back of the sofa and dragged out his coat from under the growing pile of the family's coats on the overloaded pegs. He spied a flash of the brightest magenta, contrasting with the murky green grey splotches scattered randomly over it. Her old coat, abandoned because in her words 'it's ruined and dirty and I'll look like one of those homeless people off the news' and because he hated to remember the day she had fallen in the dubious pond in the neighbourhood park. It was surely no deeper than the paddling pool she happily splashed in in the back garden, but when he saw her tumbling backwards, and her booted legs that had not entirely lost the extra layer that all toddlers carry, he couldn't help a strangled, 'Karen!' escaping his usually calm lips.

She had pulled herself out, of course, by the time he had hurried over to her, with that same indignant look she often carried. Pete could imagine her now, sitting up in her hospital bed, bandaged, but arguing with her mother indignantly about some small matter, using that unique logic he had never managed to get his head round. The crushing in his chest as he remembered that it would not be like this, made him dizzy and weak, determined and apprehensive at the same time. He was going to the hospital to see her. He didn't care that Sue was expecting him to stay here to look after the –the boys. He had forgotten them entirely, his thoughts centred entirely on Karen. He had to babysit them, owing to his own carelessness when it came to tasks entrusted to him by Sue. He was useless and he knew it. Couldn't even remember to call the babysitter so he could watch his own daughter perform, let alone remember how not to throw away his….perfect relationship with Sue. He realised only now how lucky he was to have found her. No one else could possibly understand him as well as she did, and what had he done? Drunkenly thrown it away. He would make it up to her, he resolved. Just as soon as he had gathered his small daughter up and cradled her like he had when she was a baby and would scream throughout the night. Only of course, there would be no screaming. She was unconscious. He breathed deeply, evenly. He must stay strong for Karen, for Sue.

He had called the girl from up the road, who, it had not escaped either Pete or Sue's notice, Jake had formed quite an infatuation with. He didn't care that she really was not the sort of person that could control a child like Ben and he didn't care that leaving his eldest son with the girl of his dreams was probably not the wisest idea. He had to see her. Images flickered through his mind, each one more horrifying than the next, until finally he had to suppress them to focus on the driving, although the blaring or horns had ceased to bother him on his race to the hospital.


	3. Chapter 3

He had found her. Not the girl he was so desperate to see, but Sue was the next best thing to assuage him while he waited eagerly to reacquaint himself with his daughter's face, her delicate features.

The waiting room was deserted but for him and Sue, which was perfect for him. He wanted to be able to quiz her at length, switch seats whenever he got restless or agitated and most of all he wanted to be free to weep and rage with joy, sorrow or whatever tumultuous emotion next took him. He found, however, that he just felt numb and the emptiness of the waiting room just made him feel isolated and alone, despite his wife's presence. At first glance, Sue was handling the situation better than Pete, much better. She was calm, informed and settled and tried her best to reassure Pete that he could see shortly, although Pete remained, as Sue realised, unappeasable until he had seen the doctor and been fully briefed. For this, he would have to wait until his young daughter was out of the surgery that on first hearing about had made his blood run cold.

She had been rushed away shortly after arriving at the hospital it seemed, once the real extent of her injuries had become clear. All Sue could tell him for sure was that both legs were fractured badly, the bleeding that had required transfusions had not been caused solely from the deep wounds on her legs where splintered fragments of bone protruded, as previously believed, but also from suspected internal damage. X-rays and CT scans had proved inconclusive, so until their daughter awoke, there was no way of knowing for certain to what extent if at all, her neck and back were injured, so the medical team were erring on the side of caution and keeping her as still as possible. It was likely that she wouldn't wake for a few days yet, and if she did show signs of waking before then, she would most likely be placed under medically induced coma to let her body heal properly. On top of all this information for Pete to swallow, she had a previously undetected punctured lung due to trauma caused by her broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder and a sprained wrist. The surgeons would patch her up to stabilise her, but she would probably need further operations to finish the work started.

Pete was dizzy and an unbearable ringing in his ears made it impossible for him to hear clearly what Sue was saying. He didn't care any longer, unless it related to his daughter. She had to be 'stabilised'. His children didn't need 'stabilising'. Never. People on TV and the people involved in the tragic accidents in the local paper had to be 'stabilised'. Karen could never be classed as 'tragic'. He wouldn't let it happen.

His thoughts were interrupted by a quiet sobbing, as he realised that Sue, who had been so calm up until now, was now feeling the full force of the accident. Now he had to support her, although he couldn't even support himself at that point. He was a husband, though. He was HER husband, hadn't he realised earlier just how much he cherished their marriage? This was his duty. As man of the house, husband, and father-he had to support her.

The moments ticked by, each longer than the last, and despite the oppressive and feverish atmosphere, he and Sue enjoyed a closeness they had not in a while. Murmured reassurances, an arm around her shoulder, someone to listen to her guilty ramblings all conspired to give her a perspective on why she and Pete had fallen out, and somewhere in the fog of suppressed frenzy, she opened her heart to forgive him. Throwing in, of course, a characteristic dry threat. He hadn't thought he was capable of feeling any positive emotions at this time, but was surprised to feel a wave of relief, like a load had been lifted from him.

Now all he could focus on was his daughter, clinging to life by a thread and being prodded and moved and seen to by various surgeons. Other men. He was the only man that had a right to see his daughter so vulnerable, the only man that was supposed to fix her problems. He had to keep calm, suppress his anger and frustration at feeling so helpless. Without these other men, she would certainly die. He shuddered at the thought, almost waking the woman slumbering fitfully with her head resting on his shoulder.

Staring endlessly into the slightly dimmed light of the paediatric OR waiting room, he caressed the blonde waves of the head so close to his own, while both wishing for sleep and eschewing it, lest a kindly member of staff would come with news.


	4. Chapter 4

It was the early hours of the morning, and a seldom visited relative of Pete's had been duly coerced into taking over from the girl he had entrusted to babysit his two other children. He had received garbled, overtired, worked up phone calls from Jake, insisting that Ben had ruined his life, that he was humiliated and would never find a girlfriend again. There was a pause before the boy enquired as to his sister's condition. Pete sighed, unable to disclose full details, at risk of making it seem too real, at risk of accepting the exact condition his daughter, which would rid him of any self-control that he had manage to project. Instead, he summed up the situation in two short sentences,

'She's in surgery now. We won't know until she's out'.

Jake's harried silence indicated that the boy had not suspected the evident severity of his sister's injuries to be as such. He said his goodnights, offered reassurances to both parents then hung up, a vague sense of relief prevailing, that he did not have to spend longer trying to reassure his unusually restrained parents.

It was then that the nurse's head seemingly floated round the door, uttering words Pete had wondered if he'd ever hear,

'She's out of surgery can go and see her in a minute,but first Dr Harris, would like a word, while we settle her in the CCU'.

CCU. Critical Care Unit. He shouldn't have expected less, he supposed, but hearing it only confirmed to him once more that his tiny angel was not going to be up and laughing with her brothers any time soon.

….

He couldn't slow to the pace of the surgeon showing him to her room. He wanted to race ahead, be the first to see her, make sure she was still there. He wanted to pick her up and carry her away from the people that had inflicted more pain on her, cradle her in his arms and whisper reassurances to her, away from curious eyes.

Rounding the corner, his heart jumped into his mouth. Nothing the surgeon had told him could have prepared him for this. Surrounded by machines, swathed in bandages, legs encased not only in plaster but surrounded by metal framework, the tube in her mouth, the precautions put in place to keep her neck and back still, he could cope with, just. He had been warned to expect all these things, but nobody had told him, it had never been mentioned, about the grazes, the cuts. All the superficial wounds, covering almost every inch of visible skin, and most likely the non-visible skin, were what hurt the most, what made her look so much a stranger to him. He was shaking, he knew, and he felt a hand on his shoulder, but shook it off. He wasn't interested in anyone but the angel, normally quite tiny in his eyes, looking so much smaller, drawn, defeated. What he wouldn't give to see that indignant face he had come to appreciate truly over the past few hours! He took the faux-leather recliner by her bed, aware people were talking, but not listening, all his energies focused on the feeble angel. He studied her face, looking for redemption, for thinking she looked different. Her nose, grazed, but recognizable was small comfort. Her eyes, more suited to a professional boxer after several rounds, did bear a little resemblance. He sighed, he would have to make do with these small mercies for a 'few days', however long that might mean, when he would see her eyes open, maybe even hear some choice words escape the cracked, bloodied lips. He looked to her hands, with an idea of holding one, but both were twisted with various tubes. He settled for resting an index finger on the only clear space on her nearest arm, rubbing it in small circles.

He had sent Sue home, for both his gain and hers. The circles under her eyes had been becoming more and more prominent; the weeping episodes were becoming more frequent. She was exhausted, he realised, and the boys would want to see their mother as much as she needed to see that she still had healthy children. From his own perspective, it meant he could selfishly drink in all of Karen as he could; revelling in the quickened, but steady heart beat reading on the monitor opposite him.

He didn't know how many hours it had been since he had last slept, but was aware that the hospital day had started around him, although the checks on the girl in front of him had been every fifteen minutes, at first giving him cause to watch anxiously for concerned expressions on the orderlies, but later fading into the background, barely disturbing his muttered oaths to his youngest child.

He would always protect her, he swore. He wouldn't ever lose patience or despair of her, as he had in the past, and he would care for her and deal with whatever effects the event had on her. He thought about the antibiotic drugs, doing their best to emulate the function of the spleen that had almost killed her, before its removal. The rest of her life centred around pills. He would always remember to administer them, he resolved. He was determined to protect her from all the infections that now became an imminent daily threat.

No, he was going to always do his utmost to protect her from any unnecessary evils. He wouldn't let anybody tease her about her scarred and weakened legs, not her brothers, not the children at school, nobody. At the same time, he would support and do his best to cease the flow of easy tears that might accompany the gruelling physiotherapy. And if she did have any back or neck or head injur-no, he couldn't think about that... She _wouldn't._ It wouldn't happen, not to his daughter.

But say she did, in some parallel universe, a thousand miles from here…he would be there. Nothing would hurt her again. Nothing.


	5. Chapter 5

Those 'few days' stretched on endlessly, or so it seemed to him. He wanted to stay all night and all day just to watch her face for a twitch or sign to show that she was still in there, somewhere. Of course, he had to appreciate that Sue could not be expected to deal with the boys on her own, that she too would want time alone with their youngest child and only daughter and that he must in due course pick himself up, dust himself off and head back to work, to watch over the lively teenagers that would break his heart just to look at, because he had his own, less lively child that he would rather have watched over any day.

The other staff had been…surprisingly understanding. The Brockman children were forever in and out of favour, depending on how long it had been since the last staff family gathering, however, Karen's honest, unflinching approach had always made her a firm favourite of the staff's, amongst his children. Besides, they could see his exhaustion, not just by the ever darkening circles under his eyes, but his very demeanour spoke volumes about his concern for his daughter. Add to that, the fact that instead of the usual breezy banter over coffee during the students' break, he was almost asleep in his chair every day, and the only words said about his uncommonly lack-lustre attitude to his lessons, were murmured sympathies and concern for his young daughter.

He had been called into the headmaster's office to explain his 'situation' as it was referred to by those in the know, and although the headmaster was usually someone he had little time for, he found it a relief to speak the words honestly, not to beat around the bush or avoid mentioning aspects. No, he told the man everything he knew, from beginning to end, although even to his own ears it sounded more horrific than he had meant it to, though he had not exaggerated. The man's face gradually turned to a mask of horror. He had young children of his own at home, and though he tried to conceal it, the history teacher's façade was beginning to show chinks, and there was a frantic, desperate edge to his voice that made the authoritarian shudder, when he suddenly glimpsed at what his colleague was going through.

Of course, his hours were not reduced. He hadn't expected them to be and, truth be told, although he yearned passionately, distractedly all day to return to his sickly child's bedside, returning to work had been an unexpected relief to him. Time to get away, collect himself and prepare himself for another night of scrutinizing at his daughter's bedside for signs of improvement.

And so his routine continued. He would wake early, obscenely early in the morning to take to her bedside, to memorize her face for a few hours before he tore himself away and to work. Work would drag by, barely conscious of the students and classes passing him by, while he pondered the latest report on his daughter, then as soon as the bell rang for the end of the day, he would be almost charging ahead of the students in his bid to escape to the only place he wanted to be. The drive to the hospital was always the worst part. He was never sure quite what to expect and to be honest, he was forever anxiously expecting a call to tell him that his daughter had got worse and that he must come immediately to her bedside. He would breathe out once he had begun rubbing the small circles on the usual spot and pass most of the evening there, taking over from Sue's day shift. Turning his back on the girl was heart wrenching no matter what time, or what circumstance. To get some sleep back at home, to spend some time with his other, unusually well behaved children, or simply to get a soft drink from the vending machine, it hurt.

…

They had been warned, of course, that it might be that morning, that this might be the day they would finally know exactly how damaged the broken angel in front of them really was. And he was both excited and anxious at the same time. On the one hand, he was impatient to finally look into focused eyes, but he was also loath to find out the potential damage, that doctors had warned him would not be evident until she woke up. So it was with vague trepidation that he rubbed the small circles that morning. He had been yearning for this moment for days now, but now he wasn't sure what he might say, didn't know how to react to whatever it was that she might say.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N- sorry it's been so long since the last update. Please review, it really helps and they make my day, even if they are critical, and if you have any suggestions for the story, please tell!**

It was her eyes, her eyes more than anything else. He needed to see them sparkling as she laughed, remaining serious as she told him another long winded tale of the misdeeds of one of her school friends. He just wanted her to see him, know he was there, hear him tell her that he would _always _be there, whether she knew it or not. He needed to see recognition move her face, change it from the blank, drawn expression he had been watching for too many days. For these reasons, at least, he was eager to witness her wakening, but another side of him waited in trepidation, cold dread filling him. He did not know how Sue, the boys-hell, even how he would react if the medical team did find spinal or head injuries. He told himself he would not fail her, _could _not fail her. If she had come this far, as he had begged her to, then surely he was capable of...Of what, though? This was, perhaps, his greatest fear; the unknown.

...

They had waited, God knew they had waited all morning, all through the afternoon, as his wife's false smile grew until her cheeks must have ached, but still the angel did not wake. At first, they had chatted- to each other, to Karen-hoping, perhaps, that the familiar voices would bring her out of her comatose state, but to no avail. Eventually the stilted conversation died and they resumed the careful scrutiny of the tiny girl's face, that had become their pursuit lately.

The night drew in, and he sent her home. She couldn't cope, the children needed her and he wanted his young daughter to himself once more. He promised to follow his wife later,although, truth be told, he could not see the two lively boys at home without the crushing frustration threatening to destroy him, and he knew he would not be returning home until long past their bedtimes.

Nine pm, and he accepted another mug of tea from the cheery nurse who came to check his daughter. He had grown used to these periodic checks now. At first they had alarmed him, and he had watched each routine with an increasingly practiced eye, waiting for abnormalities that would signal what he felt he already knew-that his daughter was irreparably damaged, her life altered for good. Now he gazed languidly from his recliner, letting the familiar scene wash over him. He wondered whether he really would go home tonight, or whether he would let himself fall asleep here once more. It was tempting. The hospital was unemotional and efficient, a polar opposite to his own home...

He could feel it, he was slipping into that apathetic state again, when he ceased to care, became numb. He resisted with some vigour, determined to be a husband to Sue and a father to the boys, but it was at times like these, when he was left to his thoughts that he found it easiest just to succumb, and deal with the consequences later...

Suddenly the hand he had placed in his gently clenched, the angel was stirring. Her eyelids were fighting to overcome that which had drawn them closed for so many days. The nurse started an entirely new routine, paging the doctor, trying to rouse the girl that lay before them, who obstinately clung to the drowsiness threatening to suck her back.

She blinked. He saw it, the nurse saw it, there was no denying it, she was awake. Awake. The word held so many emotions for him and though he tried to remind himself that it would be a long road yet, that he did not yet know the extent of the damage, he could not help but let his heart soar and a broad smile encompass his face.

...

Later, he would swear to his wife (frustrated to have missed it, yet so relieved that it had finally happened), that in those precious minutes he had spent with her, reassuring her, placing gentle kisses where he'd been assured they would not inflict pain, that as well as the confusion and hint of terror he had so desperately been trying to assuage, he had also seen some of the girl he knew. She still had the ability to unnerve the adults that surrounded her with one, searching glance, she still made the same face when she was trying not to yawn and best of all, she could still use that smile, half-knowing, half-crushingly innocent, to wrap anybody she chose around her little finger.

He did not mention, however, the fact that her tears still had the same effect on him, that when the doctors were performing painful tests and she whimpered in ill-suppressed agony, he had to fight to remain in his seat, not slamming the men out of the way, picking up his daughter and carrying her somewhere safe, where he could just cradle her and whisper reassurances in her tiny, puffed ear, that she was finally conscious to hear.

He did not mention, either, the overwhelming joy or the tear that slid down his cheek when he was told that his tiny, tiny angel did not have any life-altering brain or spinal injuries, because he had reassured her so many times that she wouldn't.

...

He went to bed happy that night. A wide grin gracing his face even in his sleep, marking a contrast to the drawn, beaten grimace he had been sporting for what seemed like forever. Yes, there was much to come. Yes, he knew it would not be easy and no, he didn't expect her to be up on her feet and chasing the boys immediately. He knew it was just the beginning of a long battle, and that even now, his daughter, his only daughter was lying in a hospital bed that swamped her, blood coursing with chemicals, almost unrecognisable...but she had awoken, she had spoken in a rough voice, so unlike her own, until he had remembered that she must not tire herself out, and shushed her, to take the conversation into his own hands. Twenty minutes of wakefulness, and tomorrow maybe more.

The more he thought about it, the easier the road ahead seemed to become-she would soon be weaned of all her chemicals, he assumed, then she could come out of the CCU, into a general ward, then, one day soon, he would simply walk in, pick her up, cradle her in his arms and walk out. Then she would be home, and nothing would ever so much as touch her again. He was banking on a recovery with no complications.


End file.
